Ivy Compton-Burnett - Two Worlds and Their Ways

“Well, I am not sorry to see you, Mr. Spode. I will not claim to be,” said Miss James, rising as she voiced her welcome. “As you say, it is getting dusk, and reminding us that our pleasant day is at an end. And very young people are not more manageable after excitement.”

Mr. Spode almost glanced at the young people involved.

“You have not met my wife,” said Sir Roderick. “She was not with us the last time you were here. I am glad for you to know each other.”

“Why, we already do that,” said Mr. Spode, advancing to Maria. “We met in that jeweller’s shop behind the school. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was selling an earring, and you were to provide one like it. They made a pair, and the transaction was a great success. And I was given another here to take the place of the first. So they all came from this house. You must have had a collection of them. My mother was grateful for the earring, sir. She told me to say, if I saw you, that she would never part with it. And that means a great deal from her, as it is her nature to part with things.”

“I hope she will put it to any use she likes,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Did you have it adapted, before you gave it to her?” said Oliver.

“No,” said Mr. Spode. “That is a thing that is never done.”

“Sit down and have some tea, Mr. Spode,” said Maria, in her usual tones, keeping her eyes on the guest. “We will have it fresh in a moment. I hope you are not in a hurry to leave us.”

“Mr. Spode will have to — I am afraid our train is due in half an hour,” said Miss James. “I expect he had his tea before he came.”

“It was doled out to me at an early hour.”

“It sounds as if it might be supplemented,” said Sir Roderick, “I hope there is time for that.”

“Was it not enough?” said Miss James. “Not that I should broach our domestic problems here. But I expect you had a little tray to yourself.”

“That is what it was. And solitude is not completely satisfying, though I find it so up to a point. But you are right that we should go.”

“Well, we must bow to necessity,” said Sir Roderick. “We will depend on better fortune another time.”

“We might well have it,” murmured Oliver.

“Your cap, Sturgeon,” said Mr. Spode.

“On my head, sir,” said Sturgeon, putting up his hand.

Mr. Spode did not contradict him, and he snatched off the cap.

“Now, boys,” said Miss James.

“Thank you very much,” said Bacon, shaking hands with Maria.

“Thank you very much for our happy day,” said Holland.

“Thank you,” said Sturgeon, looking down and twirling the cap.

“I should like to kiss you all,” said Maria, on a faintly reckless note.

Mr. Spode looked surprised, but glanced at the boys, as if they were available for any purpose of hers.

“But I suppose I must not.”

“No,” said Bacon. “But thank you very much for it all.”

“I don’t mind,” murmured Sturgeon, and flushed as Maria did not hear, and his companions did.

“Thank you once again,” said Holland.

Miss James was handed into the carriage. Mr. Spode settled himself at her side, as though his obligations ended here. Miss James leaned across him and directed the boys to seats. As the carriage followed the curve of the drive, Juliet came from some bushes and hurried into the house.

“I am here in time to conduct the scene. I did not know Mr. Spode was coming. Lucius sent him as an afterthought, and I was not in time to prevent it. I caught the quick train and got the guard to stop it for me. I got out of the cab at the gates and waited in the bushes until they had gone. I hope the scene has not broken. I have told you enough, for you to give it all your minds.”

There was a pause.

“Yes, do what you can for us, my dear,” said Mr. Firebrace. “We do need some help.”

“Come and join us at the fire, my pretty,” said Sir Roderick to his wife.

“So you are worthy of the name of a man, Roderick,” said Juliet. “I thought you would be, but one can never be quite sure. As there is no problem for you, there is none for anyone; for Maria least of all. How much do you know, and how much do you want to be told? There must be the questions, and the answers can be quick and complete. The whole truth can be revealed.”

The questions came uncertainly, Mr. Firebrace’s the most direct and full. Juliet answered them simply, without explanation or comment. Sir Roderick kept his eyes down, now and then raising them openly to his wife. He was the only person who asked none.

“I had heard of a woman’s power of sacrifice,” said Oliver, “but I had not met an example of it. I had come to wonder if it existed. And Maria, of all people, to sacrifice her principles! Perhaps it is an instance of the supreme sacrifice. I had heard of that too.”

“My dear, good wife!” said Sir Roderick.

“This is what I hoped,” said Juliet. “My anxiety was simply lest Maria should not have enough praise. The danger seemed to be that people might be grudging with it. But you are all on my own level, the especial level I had arranged for the situation. We are all on it together, and of course Maria as well.”

Maria covered her face and broke into weeping.

“Come, come, my dear,” said Mr. Firebrace, “it is not so much. You had not enough money to pay for the farm, though you had thought and saved to get it. The trinket was serving no purpose, and served that one of yours. You were doing no harm to anyone, and good to your husband. That is how you saw it. And a woman does not see the abstract principles behind.”

“Of course she does,” said Maria, without lifting her head. “She sees them as much as a man, and often acts on them more. I knew I was doing a dishonest thing. I simply yielded to temptation. I meant at first to tell you of the earring in the shop, and suggest that you should send your own. What I did was an afterthought.”

“What a light thing it sounds!” said Oliver. “And that is what it is, of course.”

“I reproached my poor children for their innocent deception. I was indeed the person to blame them!”

“Children are always reproached for doing what we do ourselves. What else could they be reproached for? They must have some bringing-up, and that consists of reproach. A term as a schoolmaster shows you that. And without it they would yield too much to their instincts. You see we yield enough, as it is. I do not mean Maria, of course. She yielded to just the right extent.”

Sir Roderick took one of his wife’s hands from her face, and held it in his. His face was dark and set, and might have belied his action, if she had seen it. But he knew that she did not see.

“Aunt Juliet is the heroine of the story,” said Oliver. “If it were written, it would bear her name. She is the only person who has lost anything. But I gather she has one earring left. Who would have thought one pair would go so far? No wonder Spode thought we had a collection. You would think the pair bred.”

“The earrings are the chief sufferers,” said Lesbia, speaking for the first time. “They have lost the name of being unique, when they have every right to it.”

“It is a trivial sort of a tale,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“What a shallow word!” said his grandson. “When the facts are trivial, and it is itself rooted in the depths. It is the sort of thing that is a test, and you have failed.”

“Of course we ought to pay the debt to Juliet,” said Maria. “But she would not consent.”

“I think we may leave Juliet in her place,” said Sir Roderick. “It carries its reward.”

“Father, I never thought to hear you say a mean thing.”

“But we seem to get things out of the position,” said Maria.